The Potter Girl
by OCD ADD Goldfish
Summary: She wasn't the chosen one, she wasn't anything special. But it isn't easy being seen as anything but Harry Potter's twin, even when you chose a path divergent to his own. But Violet Potter loves her bother, and will do anything to protect him. Just like a certain Potions Master will do anything to protect them both. Twins-who-lived. Future Snape/OC. Slightly AU.
1. September 1991

**Disclaimer: **World of Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am merely playing with her characters and universe.

**A/n:** This is a story I started writing a while ago, but I wanted to start posting it when I had a good portion of it written. But while I have written several chapters, I find that I'd rather see if there would be any interest in this story. So if you are interested, please review. This story will become AU, as it is a Twins-who-lived story. But I hope to keep the story quite close to canon.

**Rating: **I chose the M rating because I intend for this story to go through the seven Harry Potter books, and will later deal with some slightly more adult themes, including a student-teacher romance with a significant age difference. Fair warning, I intend for this to be a Snape/OC pairing eventually. So if you have no interest in that, then I do not suggest you continue to read as I will shamelessly include a lot of Snape (but as I do not see Snape as a pedophile, his feelings won't change until much later in the story).

**Prompt:** Going to School (#339)

* * *

**~x~X~x~**

**The Potter Girl**

**~x~X~x~**

_**September 1991**_

Wide, emerald green eyes remained, stuck with awe, on the ceiling.

When Violet pictured going to secondary school, having to smell the fumes from Petunia as she attempted to dye overlarge clothes grey in the kitchen, she'd never imagined _this_. Then again, she hadn't imagined anything like _this_ could _exist_. And this certainly _wasn't_ the secondary school that Petunia intended to send them to.

There were candles hovering in the air above them! Hundreds of them! And above that, the ceiling was dark and boasted of a clear night sky. She could see stars sparkling... as if there was no roof over their heads at all!

Violet hardly paid any mind to the rest of the Great Hall, or the names that were being called to the front. Though the hat with the brim that opened like a mouth and shouted a House name managed to turn her gaze away for a moment, the ceiling was still by far the most fantastic thing she'd set her eyes on.

Though the talking, singing hat was pretty unbelievable in it's own right.

Was the ceiling always like this, she wondered. She sure hoped so.

"Potter, Harry."

Violet's eyes snapped to her left and watched as Harry moved to the front, shooting her a brief nervous glance, to which she merely offered her sincerest smile; she hoped it fortified his courage as she focused her gaze on her brother as he made his way to the stool.

Shoving unruly, messy, jet-black hair out of her eyes, Violet nearly leaned forward in anticipation while the rest of the Hall broke out in whispers. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see people standing up, trying to get a good look at the "boy-who-lived". The apparent _savior_ of the wizarding world.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted, to the collective surprise of the Hall as the Gryffindor table broke into ruckus applause.

Violet smiled at her brother and clapped politely along with the rest of the hall, trying to ignore the sudden, nervous fluttering in her stomach. She knew what was coming next, and though she usually didn't care about what other people thought of her, she felt quite nervous about what was coming next.

"Potter, Violet," the witch with a severe bun and rectangular rimmed glasses called, silencing the hall with her stern voice.

Violet took a deep breath before trying to walk towards the stool without tripping on her own two feet. Not that she'd ever been a clumsy person, but sometimes when she was nervous, she was capable of tripping on air.

The whispering that once more broke out through the Hall made concentrating on walking especially difficult.

Finally reaching the stool with no major incident, Violet sat down and waited for the old hat to be plopped on her head. The brim of the hat had just fallen over her eyes, when she was startled by the sound of a voice inside her head.

_'I suppose you'll be wanting Gryffindor too?' _the hat questioned, sounding a bit put off.

Violet's eyes once more widened before she started to chew her lip in thought.

In reality, as much as she would like to remain close to her brother, she didn't think she wanted to follow in his footsteps. She was already starting to get sick of the attention they received as the blasted "twins-who-lived". Though it was worse for her brother, since _he_ was the one with the scar... the one who defeated Voldy-thingy.

But already, she could begin to see that like the rest of her life, she would lose her identity.

Before she was just _Girl_, at the Dursley's. Around Privet Drive, she was just _That Potter Girl_. At least in primary school she had a reputation for being the _Weird Girl_, even if it made her rather lonely because no one wanted to be friends with a weirdo.

She wasn't really _that_ strange. She just liked doing weird things and she enjoyed freaking people out. It gave her a sense of identity. It made her feel like she was her own person, and it was just funny to see people's reactions.

Somehow she had a feeling that if she went into Gryffindor, she'd just be Harry Potter's sister.

_'You're very different,'_ the hat suddenly commented to her, causing a small smile to tug on the ends of her lips.

_'Thanks'_, Violet thought.

'_Hmm, you have a certain cunning to you. Very bright. Very determined, when you want to be. You would do well in Slytherin,' _the hat informed her, his tone very pensive.

Violet furrowed her brows, thinking back to what that red-head boy said about Slytherin. However, she shoved the thought aside. Surely it was preposterous to think that just because someone was in Slytherin that they were automatically evil. It just sounded like some more prejudiced nonsense.

'N_o one will expect me to be in Slytherin_,' she thought to herself.

'_You certainly enjoy upsetting the status quo, don't you?_' the hat commented with what might have been a chuckle.

'_Sometimes,_' Violet thought almost bashfully, though with a certain amount of mischief sparkling in her eyes and no small degree of pride.

'_Well then if you're sure, better be-'_ he started telling her before shouting to the rest of the Hall, "SLYTHERIN!"

The stunned silence that followed this announcement did nothing to dim Violet's spirits as she pulled the hat from her head and handed it to a very astonished, scots-woman. Turning towards the Gryffindor table where she could see her brother looking at her with a mildly hurt expression and shock, she shrugged her small shoulders and offered a tiny, impish grin before turning and skipping towards the Slytherin table that was very slowly beginning to applaud.

"Welcome to Slytherin," a very tall, curvy girl with perfect mahogany curls, grinned as she extended a hand to Violet. "I'm Gemma Farley, fifth year Prefect."

"Hello," Violet smiled and shook the girl's hand, before taking a seat on the same side of the table, however, seated two girls away from the one that greeted her. "Hi," Violet smiled at the girl that she was sitting down next to, a girl with dark auburn hair and large, square rimmed glasses that seemed to obscure half her face.

"Hey," the girl replied uncertainly in an Irish lilt.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to the sorting. What's your name?" Violet introduced, not at all flustered by the people staring at her or the buzzing that erupted all throughout the hall.

"Tracey Davis," the girl responded, still sounding uncertain, her cheeks suddenly coloring a bit as she looked at the people around them.

Violet turned away from Tracey, wondering why she seemed a bit nervous and looked about her. She was somewhat surprised and uncomfortable with the nasty looks on the majority of the faces of the other first years that surrounded her.

"What's crawled up and died in all your noses?" Violet asked in a significantly cool tone, raising a brow at the people staring at her with their noses scrunched up, as if they were smelling something nasty.

Nasty attitudes was something she was rather used to. After all, because of the unfortunate hand-me-downs she and Harry were forced to wear, she was used to people staring at her like she was a gutter rat. It didn't help matters either that they both had very messy, untamable black hair; Violet used to fall several inches past her shoulders, but Eloise Tripp had thought it would be fun to chop off Violet's hair with a pair of scissors in class, which was why her hair barely reached her chin now, which of course caused Violet to retaliate by turning around and punching the girl right on the nose.

Beside her, Tracey snorted in what might have been amusement, though she tried to cover it with a cough.

"I'm surprised Potter. And here I thought you were going to be as dumb as your brother," a boy with a pointed face and platinum blonde hair stated.

Violet narrowed her eyes, her temper suddenly spiking. Though usually easy-going, Violet was somewhat cynical, and her temper sometimes got the better of her. Usually where her brother was concerned, or rather someone speaking of him badly or threatening him. She wasn't sure why, but Violet always had a fiercely protective streak where Harry was concerned and not simply because she was his twin. It was almost as though she thought of him younger than her and she felt a more exacerbated need to protect him.

"If you had any brains, which I severely doubt you do, you would keep your mouth shut," Violet snapped with narrowed eyes.

Draco opened his mouth to retort before flinching. Before everyone's eyes, a red welt appeared across his cheek which he slowly reached up for. "Did you just cast a stinging hex?" Draco asked, his grey eyes looking glassy as he glared at her and winced as he touched his cheek.

Violet raised a brow, her expression stony. She didn't really know what Draco was talking about, though she'd felt a very strong desire to hurt him. And it certainly wasn't the first time someone she desired to hurt, happened to _be_ hurt. Was that accidental magic, she wondered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied coolly, turning her gaze away from the blonde boy.

**TBC...**

**Remember to review, if you're interested in seeing more of this story. **


	2. October 1991

**A/n: **Thanks to _NKloveNK_ and _scotland1874_ for taking the time to review.

**Prompt: **Sister Act (#358)

_**October 1991**_

Violet raised the pastry to her nose and sniffed it, ignoring the look that Tracey was giving her. Though she and Tracey had become the best of friends, bonding over their love for sarcasm and books, Violet knew that some of her habits tended to puzzle her Irish friend. Sniffing almost everything she came across, and sifting through the belongings of others, merely being two of such habits.

"You are such a freak, Potter," Pansy Parkinson cackled, like the hag that she was.

"You're supposed to eat that, not inhale it through your nose," Daphne Greengrass, your typical beautiful, blue-eyed blonde tossed in snottily.

Violet merely ignored the girls. While none of the first years had realized that it was a good idea to bad-mouth Harry to Violet's face, they'd come to realize that where it came to insults towards herself, Violet was nowhere near as volatile.

"What is this?" Violet asked her auburn-haired friend, shoving her overly long and unruly bangs out of her eyes. Her hair now was just an inch short of skimming her shoulders.

Though most of Tracey's face was obscured by her large, black-rimmed glasses, she was extremely pretty. She had wavy hair in dark brown with highlights that were like red velvet. And behind her glasses were pale, greyish green eyes.

"It's a chocoball. They're really good, if you want to go into a diabetic coma. It's got this strawberry mousse and clotted cream on the inside," Tracey replied with her Irish lilt, shoving her overlarge glasses up her nose as she always had to.

Tracey was extremely smart which she said was because of her father. Her father was an Auror, which Violet now knew was a dark-wizard catcher. Her mother was a muggle-born and owned a flower shop. Tracey liked to say she got her work-ethic from her mother.

For her part, Violet was willfully lazy. Though she was by far best in Transfiguration and even showed a certain flare for Charms, all her teachers complained about the lack of effort put into her homework. Although, she was rather atrocious where Potions, Herbology and Astronomy were concerned.

Violet shrugged and placed the treat aside. She really didn't have much of a sweet tooth.

"How'd they get the pumpkins so big?" Violet asked, her gaze once more drawn to the High Table were there were some very large Pumpkins, some large enough that Violet could stand inside of one fully upright.

Not that Violet was tall. In fact, she and Harry were both extremely short and skinny for their age.

Tracey merely shrugged. "A bunch of ways. Growth potions, engorgement spells..."

Violet nodded, her gaze momentarily drifting away and falling on her Head of House who was scowling at her. Violet would have been shocked at this, as the Potions Master very oddly chose to ignore her existence most of the time even though she was especially disastrous in his class.

This was not the case where Harry was concerned. Violet could still recall their very first Potions class and how Snape began to pick on Harry the moment he came across him while calling roll.

"_Ah yes, Harry Potter. Our new celebrity."_

"_It's not like he asked for our parents to be murdered," Violet snapped, arms crossed tightly over her small chest and glaring at Professor Snape whose eyes snapped to her across the room. For a moment, she saw something in his dark depths as the hate previously there flared out and something that made her heart clench, replaced it, though she didn't know what it was. _

After that, Snape had gone about ignoring both Harry and herself, even though she earned herself a detention and she could still see the hate-filled glares he would send towards her brother.

"Do you think Snape's still mad at me for hitting Malfoy over the head with my telescope?" Violet asked Tracey as she turned her gaze away form the dour man.

She found Snape to be a very strange and puzzling adult. She couldn't think of anyone less fitted to being a teacher. His blatant favoritism aside, his teaching methods were ineffective as he terrorized most of the class.

The fact that he ignored her so completely was further puzzling, when considering that she was barely much better than Neville Longbottom at Potions. Granted she didn't blow up or melt so many cauldrons. Thus far there had been only the one minor explosion and that wasn't entirely her fault.

How was she supposed to know when she accidentally cut her finger while cutting her roots, that a drop of blood would fall into her potion and upset it so catastrophically?

His unreasonable hatred for Harry was something else that troubled her, even if he no longer said nasty comments to her brother in Potions. _Is it just because he's in Gryffindor?_

Violet wasn't sure if Snape hated her. Admittedly, Snape didn't seem to like anyone really. However, in her very first detention with him he'd merely set her to writing lines and almost every other detention she had with him was the same. Which didn't fit with all that she'd heard from other students about what detention with Snape were like. She knew that he could be really nasty and put a student to doing the _foulest_ of things.

"Probably. I mean... Malfoy _did_ have to go to the Hospital wing. You hit him with something made of _brass_," Tracey replied dryly with a shrug of her thin shoulders; though completely unconcerned for the blonde boy, Tracey didn't think it had been a wise decision on Violet's part.

"It wasn't a big deal. It's not like I gave him a concussion. It was just a small cut and head wounds are notorious for being real bleeders," Violet complained, before going on heatedly. "Besides he deserved it. That was a nasty trick he pulled on Harry... trying to get him expelled!"

"Well I think your method of handling it was very funny," Tracey replied, smirking slightly. Like Violet, Tracey was outcast from Slytherin for being a half-blood and not having a stupid prejudice against muggle-borns. Which Violet and Harry may as well have been. "I don't think I'll ever forget how he twirled around before falling on his face!"

"That _was_ funny," Violet couldn't help but smile, picturing it herself.

There they were in their dimly lit, and eerily green common room. Draco standing in the center, being looked adoringly upon by the two goons and Pansy when Violet suddenly strode in and made a beeline for him. She couldn't quite remember anymore why she had her telescope in her hand, but as soon as she saw Draco all she could think was _bash! Bash! Bash!_

"But Malfoy _is_ his favorite. You're lucky all you got was two weeks detention, especially if he only had you writing lines," Tracey commented. "And especially if Draco's dad is furious!"

Before Violet could say anything to this, the sound of Quirrel running and shouting stopped her.

"-Troll in the dungeons! Thought you ought to know," he said just as he reached the High table before falling over in a dead faint.

Almost immediately, screams broke out all over the hall as students everywhere jumped out of their seats. Violet watched in bewilderment, getting up slowly and grabbing onto Tracey who, though she had not screamed, had jumped out of her skin and was ready to race after the rest of the students.

"Are trolls really bad?" Violet asked Tracey with a frown on her small features, having to raise her voice significantly as she tried to maintain balance while people rushing past shoved her.

Before Tracey could respond, her eyes wide and her face extremely pale, purple sparks shot from the High Table as Dumbledore called for silence. As everyone stopped and turned to give him their attention, he advised Prefects to escort their houses to their dorms before telling the teachers to convene in the dungeons.

"Are we really going to go down to the dungeons... where the troll is?" Violet asked, thinking that was a stupid set of instructions for the Headmaster to give considering that Slytherin house was located in the _dungeons_. Where the troll supposedly was.

"Doubtful... maybe Snape's got better instructions?" Tracey stated nervously as they both allowed themselves to be herded by the Slytherin Prefects. However, they didn't get far. Just in the Entrance Hall, as other houses pushed past them, the Slytherins were creating an unmoving mass of students, at the head of which, it appeared that a few of their Prefects were arguing.

"We can't go to the Dungeons, bird for brains," Violet could just hear Gemma Farley snarling at a sixth year Prefect whose name Violet didn't know. "A troll is down there!"

"And I'm just saying we should wait for instructions from Professor Snape!" the Prefect girl with strawberry blonde hair snapped in turn.

"We can't wait here all night! We need to relocate somewhere we can secure and fast! The troll might not stay in the dungeons long!"

"I'm with Farley on this one. We can't just stand here," a prefect boy called from somewhere behind Violet and Tracey, where the two girls were standing, with Tracey clutching onto Violet's left arm.

"We're going to the library," a girl with platinum blonde hair stated, appearing out of nowhere, her tone firm and authoritative; there was a Head Girl badge on her chest.

And with that, they all started moving once more, heading up the stairs. However, they were just at the point of passing the third floor when Violet saw something strange. At another staircase, she could just make out a boy with red hair, trailing after whom she was sure was her brother.

Pausing in the middle of the stairs, her hand on the railing, she ignored the people shoving past her and Tracey's incessant tugging, and stared.

"What is he doing!" she wondered, suddenly feeling very annoyed at her twin, who was moving against the grain of the rest of his House.

While she and Harry were very different and she wouldn't call them close, she still loved and felt very protective of her brother. Though, ever since they started going to school they didn't get together very much and were even, possibly, drifting further apart.

"Vi, what are you doing! We are going to be left behind!" Tracey griped, tugging on Violet who merely shook her off and pointed towards where her brother was headed down a hall.

"LOOK!"

Following her friend's finger, Tracey pushed her glasses up her nose and stared at the two small figures, disappearing around a corner and watched in bewilderment as Violet hopped off the stairs and started to make her way towards the two figures.

"What are you doing?" Tracey called, hopping after her friend and catching her by the robes, trying to pull her back.

"To see what my brother is doing! He should be going to his house!"

"And we should be heading with our house to the library!"

Violet stopped trying to tug against her friend, who had dug her heels in the ground and was leaning back to keep Violet from moving forward. Turning around, she gave her friend an exasperated look.

"You don't have to come with me," Violet frowned.

Tracey shifted her feet uncomfortably. However, the sudden sounds of screams had them both jumping and clutching at each other, their little hearts hammering hard against their respective chests. "What was that?" Tracey asked breathlessly.

"I don't know, but it came from the direction my brother just went," Violet called before running towards the direction the screams and yells were coming from. It wasn't long before they were standing outside what appeared to be a girl's lavatory from which a cacophony of sounds was coming from.

"I don't think the troll is in the dungeons," Tracey gulped, staring with wide and frightened eyes at the loo before snapping towards Violet as she started to make her way towards the door. "What are you doing?" she asked sharply, grasping her friend's robes.

"My brother is in there! He could be hurt!" Violet stated, filling with fear and panic at the thought of her brother, the only family she loved and really had as she didn't count the Dusleys.

"You can't just go in there! Something could happen to you... we should go get a teacher!" Tracey stated to which Violet merely shoved her away, hard.

"Great idea. You go get one, meanwhile I'm going to see about my brother," she said as she dashed towards the bathroom, moving quickly so as not to be stopped again.

Tracey didn't follow behind this time, but as she came into the lavatory, Violet found she didn't care. Her heart was thundering so hard in her chest, that it drowned out any other sound as she stared at the mayhem before her.

A very large, green thing stood in the bathroom, holding her brother by the ankles and dangling him in mid-air while Ron Weasley stood a few feet before her, throwing chunks of wood from the destroyed stalls, at the monster.

"Harry!" Violet gasped at the sight of her brother hanging upside down as the large troll took repeated swings at her brother with a very large, wooden club, luckily missing her brother every time.

"Do something!" Harry called.

"What?" Ron Weasley asked as Violet wondered what the hell to do as she stood frozen, wracking her brain.

"Anything!" Harry called back.

"Just swish and flick!" Another voice called, drawing Violet's gaze to the sinks, where Hermione Granger was hiding.

Violet didn't know what Granger was talking about as she felt her stomach roil violently. She had a feeling that all the sweets she had at dinner were threatening to make a reappearance just as Weasley pulled out his wand and cast the levitation charm. With one hand on the wall and another holding her stomach, she watched with wide eyes as the club suddenly slid out of the troll's hand and hung over it's head for a moment before falling on it, causing the troll to drop Harry unceremoniously on the floor while it struggled to stay conscious.

Shoving past Weasley, Violet ignored her nausea as she tugged her brother out of the way just as the troll collapsed on it's face. She could feel Harry shaking against her as they all stared at the troll.

"Is it dead?" Hermione asked as Violet and Harry both breathed heavily, trying to calm their thundering hearts.

"I don't think so, just knocked out," Harry said as he pulled away from Violet to retrieve his wand, which was apparently shoved up the creature's nose.

"Ugh, troll buggers."

Watching her brother wiping buggers from his wand, Violet suddenly felt the nausea and tremors she felt stop. Her fear was suddenly replaced by overwhelming anger. Heading over to her brother, she grabbed him by the robes and started shaking him.

"What the bloody hell were you doing?" she asked angrily, her face turning red with rage as she glared at her brother. However, before Harry could do anything more but look at her with wide eyes, the sound of footsteps alerted them to the arrival of several people.

McGonagall was the first to burst into the room, followed very quickly by Snape and Quirrel. Tracey brought up the rear looking very worried and taking in everything before her with wide-eyes.

Letting go of her brother, they both stared at their respective Heads of House with apprehension as they both looked equally livid. Though, as Snape made his way over to her, she noticed that he shot her brother a very nasty glare, as though it were all his fault. Which, Violet had to admit, it sort of was.

Violet didn't say anything, though she frowned as Professor Snape took her by the robes and moved her as far away from the troll as he could manage while McGonagall laced into the rest of them about what they were doing, and how they were lucky they were alive. Violet noticed as Snape pulled her, that his gait was different and frowned as she stared at his leg wondering what was wrong with it.

She found she didn't really care about the explanation as she stood next to Tracey and exchanged looks with the other girl.

"And you, Miss Potter?" Violet snapped to attention, startled when Professor McGonagall pierced her with a stern glare, lips still pressed into a tight line.

"I... well, I saw Harry moving away from his house and I was worried," she mumbled, briefly shooting her brother a glare, causing him to duck his head and rub the back of his neck. "Tracey followed me and I sent her to fetch a teacher."

"I see... well-"

"If you don't mind, I will see to my own students," Snape suddenly cut in with his voice deadly, showing that he wasn't asking at all.

Tracey and Violet exchanged looks as Snape then grabbed them and pushed them gingerly towards the exit. Violet mouthed an apology to Tracey, knowing that Snape was unlikely to be easy on them, considering the stormy expression on his face and the way his vein at his temple was throbbing.

**TBC...**

**Remember to review.**


	3. November 1991

**A/n: **I have completely forgotten to mention this before, but the prompts are from and for "The If You Dare Challenge".

Special thanks to _summer nights and seashores_, _NKloveNK_, _victoria cullen30._

**Prompt: **More Trouble (#359)

_**November 1991**_

It was the first Quidditch game of the season, though Violet didn't really know what the game was or how it was played as Tracey had no interest in it and Violet didn't talk to anyone else in their House.

However, at eleven a.m, both girls found themselves seated in the Slytherin stands, staring at the game as it started. Mostly because Harry was playing and Violet felt she should at least be supportive of her brother, even if she was still upset with him about the whole troll fiasco. And even if she was sporting her Slytherin cloak, scarf and gloves.

And of course, if Violet was going to freeze in the stands, she was going to drag Tracey with her. It was her honest opinion, that Tracey needed to get out more.

Luckily, Gemma Farley didn't really seem to mind explaining the rules of the game to the girls. Well, mostly for Violet's benefit as Tracey didn't really care and was watching the game with boredom on her small features.

"So are you any good on a broom?" Gemma asked, turning briefly to look at the short, skinny first year. Violet merely shrugged her shoulders, paying rapt attention to the game. It was played at such speeds, that it seemed a little difficult to keep up with.

"She's practically as good as her brother," Tracey piped up for her friend in a very matter-of-fact tone: Violet never seemed to boast of her talents.

"Oh! So maybe we'll have our own Potter Seeker next year?" Gemma teased, nudging Violet. But the short, dark-haired girl shook her head.

"I can't keep up with the snitch," Violet replied not taking her eyes off the Slytherin chasers. For a moment, she thought of the tidbit Harry had told her that he'd learned from his friend Hermione. Their father was Quidditch Captain when he was in school and his position was Chaser. "Maybe a chaser," she commented distractedly, watching the fluid way the Chasers seemed to move and work together that it seemed almost like a ballet on brooms.

However, as she watched a bludger sent barreling through the air and nearly hitting one of the Gryffindor Chasers in the head, she found that the idea of suffering broken bones or concussions did not appeal to her.

"I think I'd rather watch," Violet commented with a grimace.

"Well, not to discourage you from trying out next year, but it would probably be for the best. Flint isn't quite a benevolent or merciful leader," the brunette prefect offered conversationally, to which Violet and Tracey both looked at her with wide eyes and raised brows.

Turning back to the game as Gemma cheered loudly as Slytherin made another goal, Violet started to pay the chasers rapt attention once more. She didn't immediately notice that anything was wrong until Tracey suddenly grasped her arm very hard.

"Look!" the auburn-haired girl exclaimed when Violet turned to give her a very vexed glare.

Turning away from her friend, she followed the gloved finger to what she was pointing at and felt her heart leap into her throat as her stomach tightened.

High over the heads of the other players, where her brother had spent a good deal of the game just hovering to watch, Violet found her brother riding his broom as one would ride a bucking bull.

"What is he doing?" Violet asked alarmed as she started to shove her way out of her seat and towards the edge of the stands, as if that would allow her to see what was happening any better.

She felt her heart leap as the broom started to roll with Harry just barely hanging on. She could hear the jeering and laughing from her House-mates, but she ignored it as she continued to watch Harry.

The next moment, the broom had bucked wildly and she felt her stomach lurch as she saw her brother suddenly dangling from the broom by one hand.

"What the hell is happening?" Violet asked, turning to look at Tracey who very comfortingly, didn't find the situation the least bit amusing and showed a grave expression.

"Only thing I can guess would be someone jinxing the broom but... no student would be capable of a jinx of that caliber," Tracey replied with a frown, knowing this for a fact because her father was a very good Auror and Tracey always had a fascination with Defense and the Dark Arts. It was what she and her father mostly bonded over.

Violet only distantly absorbed this as she watched Gryffindor's beaters try and get her brother safely onto one of their brooms, resulting in Harry's broom moving higher. All they could do was circle underneath as Harry continued to hang on by his fingers, but the broom was vibrating so hard that Violet feared that Harry would lose his grip any second.

"Why aren't the teachers doing anything?!" Violet cried in frustration, hating the fact that all she could do was stand there and wring her hands as tears sprouted in her eyes and her heart leaped into her throat, constricting it.

As if to check to see if any of them were bothering to help, her eyes flicked to the stands where the majority of the school staff seemed to be seated. Her gaze unwittingly fell on the purple turban and she found, much to her astonishment that Quirrel was staring at her brother without blinking, his face twisted into an almost satisfied concentration, his eyes gleaming strangely.

A cold chill swept up her spine as she stared at the man. She wasn't exactly sure what it was about Quirrel, but something about him seemed _off _and it wasn't his stutter. He gave her the creeps, ever since Harry, Hagrid and she ran into him in The Leaky Cauldron.

"Jinxing... it involves eye contact... right?" Violet asked tremulously, vaguely recalling something that Tracey had once told her.

"Yes, it's a requirement, otherwise it doesn't work," Tracey replied, giving her friend a curious look just as Violet moved towards the stairs, unable to simply stand there and watch any longer.

She wasn't really sure what she was doing as she started to run down the stairs, only vaguely aware that she was moving towards the teacher's stands. However, she hadn't quite made it there, before she heard the cheering coming from the field. Turning instead towards the pitch, she saw her brother standing in the middle of the field, holding up one of his hands.

Not really caring what just happened, Violet ran onto the pitch, shoving away the Gryffindor team-members that blocked her way as they landed and throwing herself at Harry. Her arms wrapped tightly around him as she pressed her face into his neck.

"Vi... can't breathe," Harry wheezed as he patted his sister lightly on the back.

Pulling away and wiping away any stray tears that had fallen, Violet punched her twin lightly on his chest.

"You are more trouble than you're worth. Don't EVER do that to me again!"

**XxX**

Severus stood, staring down into the pitch, completely unamused. He could feel a bead of sweat, collecting by his temple, thankfully hidden by his hair.

His eyes narrowed, watching the Potter girl shoving her way through the Gryffindor players like a little wrecking ball, until she reached her brother.

A twinge that felt remarkably like jealousy resonated within him, as he watched the female Potter, enveloping her twin tightly in her arms.

Thus far, this was not his day.

Gryffindor defeating Slytherin, was the least of his worries, but still somehow managed to make the list of things that were wrong with this particular day.

His robes had mysteriously, caught on fire. Fortuitous, really, when one took into account the results. But it was highly unlikely to be an accident, it was suspicious even. And in spite of the results, Severus didn't take very kindly to being set on fire.

More disturbing, were the particular events of today's match. An attempt, a clumsy one which -still - would have been effective given enough time, had been made on the male Potter progeny. Not a matter to be taken lightly. And one that was highly concerning, considering the boy was only eleven years old.

Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of the Headmaster, who while seated and smiling, had a steely expression in his blue eyes.

As his black eyes met the Headmaster's sparkling blue, they both exchanged a grave look. In his head, Severus could hear the Headmaster's voice, instructing him to keep a sharper eye on Harry and on Quirrel.

With an imperceptible nod, Severus turned away to leave the stands. A scowl etched onto his face, he ruminated on the fact that with only three months into the Potters first year, the twins were already more trouble then they seemed to be worth.

**TBC...**

**As always Review.**


	4. December 1991

**Prompt: **Step Right Up... (#283)

_**December 1991**_

Christmas morning was cold. Violet would have found it lonely too, as all the girls in her dorm had gone home for the Holidays, but the fact that there were presents at the foot of her bed rather seemed to make her forget all about that.

Besides, after sharing a tiny space with her brother all her life, and then having to share the dorm with four girls, she found it refreshing to have a room all to herself. It hardly bothered her that she was practically the only Slytherin in the entire school, but for a handful of others that were staying too.

Though, Tracey _had_ invited her to come with her for the holidays. But somehow, Violet didn't feel right leaving her brother all alone at the castle and as it was that special time of year that you were supposed to spend with the ones you loved, Violet felt that she ought to be there with her brother. Even if she was a scrooge or grinch where Christmas was concerned.

She'd always hated the holiday as it just served to show her everything she didn't have.

However, her face seemed to brighten slightly as she noticed that there were what looked like presents at the foot of her bed. Moving over towards the little pile, she stared at them in wonderment.

Picking up the smallest first, she stared at the note and ripped it up without reading it when she realized it was from the Dursleys. Considering how nasty they were, she didn't bother with reading the note, nor cared for the fifty-pence piece attached to it.

After tossing aside the strips of paper, she turned her attention to the next. She smiled as she noticed it was from Harry and wondered that if for once she and her brother thought alike. After opening the present, she nearly laughed as she noticed he'd continued their little tradition and gave her an origami crane. For her part, Violet had branched out a little and made a little owl and charmed it to fly when her brother opened the box it came in.

Turning her attention to the next present, still going according to size, she smiled.

It was from Tracey and wrapped in silver wrapping paper. Opening the long box, she found what appeared to be a set of three sour-quills. One electric blue, another neon green, and the last a sort of neon red.

Violet was surprised when she noticed that there were two other presents, addressed from Tracey's parents. Mr. Davis sent her what looked like a wand holster, very much like the one that Tracey owned. Tracey's mother sent a pretty arrangement of yellow roses, which were charmed to last a month.

After setting aside the yellow roses on her nightstand in their little vase, and strapping the wand holster to her wrist with her wand, she pulled out her next present. This one was from Hagrid and appeared to be a hand carved, wooden, Stargazer Lily pendant. It was roughly the size of galleon and attached to a leather thong, meant to be worn as a necklace.

Violet felt awe as she stared at the pendant, touching it with her finger. She could feel tears collecting in her eyes and her heart swell with warmth.

Though she wasn't as attached to Hagrid as her brother was, she couldn't help feeling enormously tender towards the very large and gruff man who'd first introduced them to the wizarding world. Pulling the pendant over her head, Violet fingered the pendant one last time, thinking that it was possibly the most beautiful thing she'd ever been given and telling herself that she had to make more of an effort to repay such kindness to Hagrid.

Finally, the last parcel was lumpy and wrapped plainly, and oddly enough, addressed from the Weasleys.

Violet frowned slightly, wondering at that. Though she knew that Ron Weasley was best friends with her brother, along with Hermione Granger, Violet barely interacted with them. While she was polite to Granger and attempted to be polite to Weasley, she merely felt awkward around them. The fact that they were in rival houses made it all the more difficult.

Opening the present, Violet raised a brow as she stared at what appeared to be a hand-knitted sweater in pastel pink and a box of fudge. She frowned as the color of the sweater as she lifted the bulky sweater from it's wrapping, setting aside the box of fudge, while staring at the V stitched in royal purple.

Though Violet had never been one for wearing pink (though she didn't have a choice as she had to wear Dudley's hand-me-downs), and she was befuddled that she would be given a present by a set of complete strangers, she knew that the fact that the sweater was hand-knit meant a great deal.

Someone had actually spent much of their time doing this... for _her_. That meant that not only they were thinking of her, but thought she was worthy of spending their time on. And she couldn't say she wasn't touched by the gesture, even if she found pastel pink a truly atrocious color.

Groaning, knowing that it would be very ungrateful not to wear it, she pulled the thing over her head before shoving her unruly hair back.

_Well, at least it's warm, _she thought. And warmth was something precious for a Slytherin, considering the dungeons and especially their House, was bitterly cold.

**XxX**

Violet was amongst the first to arrive in the Great Hall for dinner as there wasn't much for her to do in her dorm.

Upon entering, her eyes did a quick search, not that she had to look very hard for who she wanted. After all, the Great Hall was still pretty empty and Hagrid was very hard to miss. Smiling, she made a beeline for the High Table, ignoring some of the looks she got as she went, even from some of the teachers.

She was sure she didn't make a pretty picture with her extremely baggy jeans, and bulky pink sweater, with the large greying t-shirt she wore underneath poking out from under her sweater by several inches. It didn't help either that her jet black hair which reached a bit past her shoulders now, seemed to grow in every which way and half-obscured her vision.

Seated, Hagrid's head was still a good deal taller than Violet, but she didn't let herself be troubled by this. Jumping as she finally reached him, she wrapped her arms as best she could around his neck, beaming as she pulled away enough to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you for the christmas present, Hagrid. I love it!" she smiled as she let him go and touched her feet back down to the floor.

Hagrid's cheeks turned pink as he looked at her a bit bashfully, his smile embarrassed as his eyes became glassy. "Was nothin' special-"

"It's beautiful! The most beautiful thing I've ever gotten!" Violet smiled, pulling the pendant out from beneath her pink sweater and holding it gingerly between her thumb and index finger, running her index finger over the smooth and polished wood.

Real tears shone in Hagrid's eyes then as he stared at her. Violet felt her stomach knot itself as she felt sentiment clawing at her chest. She hadn't meant to make Hagrid sad. However, she had a feeling that his tears were more from joy than sadness, much like her own earlier.

Not wishing to become emotional in front of so many people, as her tears were something she hid from even Harry who was the only one who ever got to see her sweet side, she looked past Hagrid where McGonagall was staring at her with a slight upturn of her lips. But her eyes too appeared somewhat sad.

On her other side was the Headmaster who wished her a Happy Christmas and told her how pleasant it was to receive a visit from her at the staff table.

Violet merely grinned in turn and wished him a Happy Christmas as well before she spotted her brother making his way into the Great Hall with the Weasley clan. Telling goodbye to the teachers, and thanking Hagrid once more, she skipped towards her brother.

"Hey, girly Potter's got a Weasley sweater too!" one of the twins stated as Violet threw her arms around her brother, noticing immediately that he was wearing an emerald green sweater, like her own, with an H on it.

"Did you like your little owl?" Violet asked. This year, she'd made him an owl instead of a crane because of Hedwig. While Hagrid had gotten the owl for them to share, Harry more or less was the real owner as Violet wasn't really one for taking care of pets. Harry on the other hand had loved Hedwig the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

"Yeah. How did you get it to fly?" he asked as they started to make their way towards the Gryffindor table as Violet didn't have anyone to sit with at her own House.

"I asked Professor Flitwick to teach me a to charm it a couple weeks ago," Violet replied as they sat down to eat and started to tell each other about the gifts they respectively received.

Violet frowned as Harry finished. "Wait. You got an _invisibility_ cloak? That belonged to our... _father_?"

Harry nodded, looking nervous as the Weasley's continued to happily interact around them. He gave Violet an apologetic and almost guilty expression at the fact that he'd been left the cloak, meanwhile she'd gotten nothing special from their parents.

Though he knew Violet was capable of a lot of love, she had a tendency to be aloof.

Growing up, when it came to their parents, Violet never seemed to show as much interest as Harry did and she never really seemed interested in talking about them. When they'd been told the truth about what happened to their parents... Violet hadn't really reacted much. To her, it was like hearing about complete strangers and she was numb to it.

Except for the burning she felt in her chest, but she ignored the feeling, preferring to shove it down and pretend it didn't exist.

"Yeah... but we could share it-"

Violet didn't say anything to that, merely choosing to turn away and shrug her shoulders.

"That's okay Harry. You were meant to have it," Violet stated, ignoring the stung feeling she felt that she hadn't gotten anything special from their parents before telling herself she shouldn't care. After all, weren't these people strangers, even if they had sacrificed themselves for Harry and herself?

"But-"

"No, Harry. It's yours and I _really_ DON'T want it," Violet stated firmly, her conviction getting stronger as she ignored the thought that her parents seemed to have loved Harry more.

**XxX**

Violet didn't know what she was doing there, or why she agreed to go. She was already on edge, sneaking out past curfew and hiding underneath the invisibility cloak with her brother.

By the time they finally found the stupid mirror they were looking for and were standing before it, Violet couldn't help feeling that it was a monumental waste of her time. Though, the mirror _was_ impressive but for some reason she kept picturing a fun-house mirror. After all, it had to be some kind of trick right?

"I don't see anything," Violet stated monotonously, as she stood just behind Harry.

"Maybe you have to stand where I am; here, stand right here," Harry instructed, moving off to the side and allowing Violet to stand in the middle before the mirror. In her head, for some reason she kept picturing some large and boisterous carny crying,_ 'Step right up and witness the magical mirror that's a gateway to viewing the dead!'_

Violet felt her heart skip a beat as figures started to appear behind her. She felt her chest tightening as she approached the mirror more closely to get a better look after checking to see that there was no one behind her.

It wasn't long before two figures made themselves visible and clear. One a very beautiful woman with red hair and eyes just like her and Harry; the other was a man, with messy back hair and who looked exactly like Harry but for a few slight differences.

Violet felt her stomach twisting as she saw how happy they looked as they beamed at her. And there, just beyond the man who was her father, she could see Harry. Harry looking healthy, and not small for his age. Harry, without a scar on his head, and looking happy.

"This isn't real Harry," Violet stated, feeling the familiar burn in her heart as she ignored the tightening in her throat.

She turned away from the mirror, unable to stand looking at it any longer.

"But-"

"No Harry. It's… this is some trick or mirage... a fantasy. It isn't _real_! Our parents are dead, Harry, and nothing is ever going to bring them back, or make the past eleven years disappear," Violet stated bluntly and almost harshly, hating the hurt look in her brother's green eyes. "Don't waste time dreaming for something that's never going to happen," Violet stated, wishing to comfort her brother but knowing he was too hurt with her at the moment to accept it.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered, before leaving, not caring that she didn't have the cloak to hide her as she tried to make her way back down to her dorm.

Tears had sprouted in her eyes as the image of Harry, staring at her like she'd just stabbed him in the heart, engraved itself in her memory.

Once more, her chest burned as she thought of the mirror and as she continued to mechanically make her way quickly through the dark. Finally she was able to identify what it was. It was a dark and bitter emotion that she could almost taste. It seemed to go beyond any anger she might temporarily feel and had it's roots dug deep inside her.

It was resentment... resentment at her parents for leaving them. For giving up their lives and leaving them to the Dursleys. For not being there for the past ten years of their lives. For not being there for every Halloween, Christmas and birthday. For not taking care of them. For failing to protect them and keep them safe.

For giving Harry that painful longing. For being complete strangers to her.

It wasn't until she slammed hard into something solid, which groaned on impact and caused her to fall on her backside, that she realized that she'd been running. Wiping her eyes which were muddled by tears, she looked up at what had caused her to fall and found that even in the dark, she recognized her Head of House.

The glare on his face disappeared as he noticed her tears and labored breathing.

"Miss Potter?" he questioned, "What are you doing out at this hour?"

He asked as she tried to calm her breathing. But it was useless as she burst into sobs, drawing her knees to her chest and burying her face in her knees, wishing to hide her shame. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd cried, much less bawled like this and she detested how it made her feel like a baby.

With her arms wrapped around her knees and her face hidden in their depths, she started to unconsciously rock herself as she continued to cry. She didn't know what Snape was doing or thought, but she wished she could just disappear as she continued to attempt to stop her bawling but she just couldn't no matter how hard she tried.

Violet wasn't sure how long she sat there. It felt like an eternity before she was able to get ahold of herself. Peeking out from beneath her arms after stealthily wiping her tears away on her sleeves, she was startled to find that Snape was crouching down so that he was almost level with her and staring at her with a look that was impossible for her to discern.

"Here," he stated simply, holding out a black handkerchief to her.

With cheeks that were flaming red, Violet took the proffered item, using it to wipe away the snot and residue wetness on her cheeks. Her eyes felt swollen and she was sure her nostrils were as red as her cheeks.

"What happened, Miss Potter?" he asked, his tone cold but with what sounded like fury as he got to his feet. Violet didn't know how fury could sound cold. "Did someone hurt you?" he asked, his tone menacing, which somehow Violet was certain was not meant for her but at some unknown, imaginary person.

She merely shook her head, too ashamed to speak as her cheeks continued to burn. While she hated that she'd cried, she hated it even more that someone had been witness to it.

She allowed her hair to flop in her face and half-hid her eyes.

"Tell me what happened to put you in this state," Snape snapped, his patience apparently worn thin.

"I," her throat was sore and raw. It sounded like she'd gargled glass. Clearing her throat, she tried again, not able to look at Snape as she hugged her knees tighter to herself and lowered her gaze. "I saw my parents... they were in this mirror... but I know it's not real-"

Her voice was small and she was sure that if the hall hadn't been so quiet, he probably wouldn't have heard a word she said.

A sigh escaped her Head of House. "I see."

For a while they remained silent and unmoving, Violet feeling strangely hollow. Distantly, she wondered if she were a terrible person for being so angry and resentful towards her parents.

"Come, Miss Potter. It's long past the time you should be in bed."

Violet nodded, getting to her feet and keeping her eyes low as they made their way towards Slytherin. She didn't look up once until she was before the entrance to Slytherin and even then when she turned to Snape, she didn't look up at him. Her cheeks flamed red as she extended the black kerchief she still clutched in her hand to him.

"Keep it."

She nodded her head, wondering why she was dumb enough to think he'd want the snotty piece of cloth back.

"Good night Professor," she whispered, before disappearing inside, wishing she could _really_ disappear.

**TBC...**

**Thanks to everyone who take the time to review! I'm glad people are enjoying this story!**


	5. January 1992

**Prompt: **Children (#316)

_**January 1992**_

It was double Potions class; Gryffindor and Slytherin first years. Possibly the class that caused him the worst headaches for several reasons.

The first being, as was usually the case between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the incessant fighting; never conducive to good Potion brewing, but at least he was always capable of keeping this to a minimum.

The second being that damn Longbottom boy. He'd never met anyone worse at Potions, and he had half a mind to forever ban the boy from his class. However, Dumbledore would never allow it, so he simply had to make due and be extra vigilant for disaster whilst counting down to the moment where he could refuse the boy if he dared apply for his NEWTs class.

The third, being having to stare at the blasted Potter boy, who was the spitting image of his father with his unruly hair and large glasses. Unfortunately the boy had his mother's green eyes that had once, and only once, managed to catch him off guard. And as much as he burned to abuse the boy, to somehow put him in his place, he simply couldn't because of the Girl.

The Potter's first born was possibly his greatest problem.

The Potter girl, was so very nearly identical to her brother, that she could easily be mistaken for a boy. However, where the Boy's face was a bit more square, the Girl's was marginally longer and softer. And while the Girl's hair was equally messy, it was slightly longer, which coincidentally made it look shaggier. What was worst, her emerald-green, almond-shaped eyes were not hidden behind hideous glasses, and when set on him, had an undiluted effect on his person.

Severus wasn't quite sure what to make of the Girl.

From the very first night in the castle, she was a proverbial sphinx. Severus wasn't quite sure when any single student's sorting had been such a hot topic of discussion amongst the staff, and no one was more surprised than Severus by the Girl's sorting into Slytherin. Especially after her twin had just continued the long Potter tradition of being sorted into Gryffindor.

In her first Potions class, she showed herself to be a force to be reckoned with, or at the very least that her temper was.

Unfortunately, while she seemed to have inherited her mother's fiery personality and eyes, she had inherited none of her talent for Potions. She was almost as atrocious at Potions as Longbottom, where as the Boy, much to his chagrin, proved himself adequate enough in the practical aspect of the class. Though Severus wasn't wholly convinced the boy wasn't getting by without some help from Granger.

Though Severus tried to ignore the Girl, it was slightly difficult when she happened to be in his House. For the most part, he was successful. However, there were things she did that he simply could not ignore. Like hitting Malfoy with her brass telescope. Though, he still didn't quite understand what that had been about only that the Potter boy had somehow been involved.

It would seem that the Girl felt fiercely protective of her twin. Though why she felt so strongly about protecting her brother was a mystery to him. Perhaps the girl knew she was the elder sibling. Or there was some innate feeling that came with being the first born, where the younger siblings were concerned.

However, the girl was a mystery. From what little he saw of her, he gathered she was mostly an aloof child. Then came the bloody Holidays and he'd seen two things that had befuddled him. The first being, seeing the Girl shower actual affection on that buffoon Hagrid, affection that he had not seen her show to anyone excepting her twin during that first Quidditch match.

Then had been the worst, seeing those stunning, emerald eyes of her's swollen with tears.

He'd had very little choice but to give her his silken handkerchief (a Christmas gift from Narcissa some years ago), at a complete loss as he was at what to do to comfort a sniveling child; a sniveling child with _her_ eyes.

Though why he'd allowed her to keep his handkerchief was beyond him. After all, the thing was charmed so it never became sullied.

Glaring at yet another poorly written essay, Severus swept his gaze around the dungeon classroom, wondering why he was ruminating so much on the Potter children... the Girl specifically. Sure... he'd promised to protect them... for Lily, but the reality was they weren't any different than any other child in his life, even if they were significantly smaller than the other first years (to the point that he was actually quite concerned that their growth was stunted or they were malnourished).

And children really, were the bane of his existence. Often, Severus wondered at the fact that he'd ever been one himself.

Scowling out at the many little faces hovering over their brewing cauldrons, his eyes drifted unconsciously over to the Girl, in the hopes that she was at very least managing with the assignment for today. He wasn't sure he could deal with a Potter or Longbottom catastrophe today.

He was somewhat startled when his eyes were instead met by the girl's gaze. Her eyes immediately lowered, and a faint trace of pink alit her cheeks as her unruly hair fell to shade her face.

Frowning, he wondered what that was about as he tore his gaze away to take in the rest of the class. Not once had the Girl struck him as shy, or bashful. In fact, he was increasingly growing to think of her as rather shameless.

_Was she embarrassed he'd seen her crying, _he wondered before shaking his head telling himself firmly that he didn't care and if he wondered, it was simply because she was Lily's daughter, and she was in his House making her his direct responsibility, as all Slytherins were.

**XxX**

Violet sat awake in the Slytherin common room. It was something close to two in the morning, so the room was empty of anyone else.

Though she could feel the darkness of the room pressing in around her as the green lanterns that hung overheard on chairs were doused, she found that she wasn't disturbed by the darkness.

Huddled on the end of the couch, her school cloak wrapped tightly around her, she hugged her knees to the chest and in her hands, she absently rubbed the silken piece of cloth she held.

Absently, her gazed stared at the roaring fire in the hearth before her.

They'd had astronomy that night, and Violet wasn't sure why, but she hadn't been able to sleep since they'd gotten back.

She hadn't spoken to Harry since the night before the mirror. She'd avoided him, as much as he'd avoided her after the incident. But... she still felt bad about the things she said to him, even if what she said was just the truth.

But she didn't want Harry to hurt. And much less, she didn't want him to hate her.

They were all each other had... before. Though she supposed now, he had Ron and Hermione. Perhaps, he didn't really need her. Perhaps Ron and Hermione, didn't tell him the things that he didn't want to hear.

Harry... he liked to avoid the ugly things in life, as much as it was possible at least. Or... he was much more passive about things. He went more easily with their lot in life, accepted it better than she'd ever had. And somehow, he was able to let it go, and still look at the good in life.

Violet didn't know how to do that anymore, she wasn't even sure if she ever really had. She didn't see the good. Whatever _appeared_ good, she looked at with suspicion. She watched it, dissected in, and when she found the bad, she focused on it and ignored the _good_, if it was ever there to begin with.

For the most part, she'd stopped sharing her observations with Harry, many years ago. She knew they upset him, and usually lead to arguments between them, and Violet didn't want to fight with her brother.

But that night... it had hurt and her temper had flared and she'd said things to Harry, that she knew he wouldn't want to accept.

Chewing on her lip, she regretted her anger. It always made her say or do stupid things. Things that she wouldn't do if she were calm.

Being angry never really solved anything. People didn't react favorably to anger and usually she tried to keep it hidden from everyone, even if she wasn't always successful.

Pretending... that's what people liked. When she smiled at them sweetly. When she looked at them with her eyes wide, through her lashes. When she spoke pretty, polite words, or giggled at something that wasn't terribly clever or amusing. When she behaved like a happy child and gave them her rapt attention like they were gods.

It wasn't that Violet was miserable. Most of the time, she could ignore the fact that her parents were dead, that she was raised by awful relatives, and that she and Harry had to share an uncomfortably tight space for the first eleven years of their life.

But sometimes... sometimes her chest felt like it would cave in under the pressure of absolutely everything that her life entailed.

**TBC...**


	6. February 1992

**Prompt:** Spun Dizzily (#89)

_**February 1992**_

Tracey Davis wasn't going to say anything. She wasn't going to complain about being dragged out of the freezing cold dungeons, to the equally freezing grounds on a Sunday. And she wasn't going to complain as she sat on the hard, but thankfully dry ground, with a book open in her lap as she ate a licorice wand. (It was at least better than being stuck in the Slytherin common room, listening to Daphne Greengrass boast about all the Valentines that she'd received.)

Tracey certainly wasn't going to comment on Violet's strange desire to spin around in circles. However, she did wonder about a few things. The foremost in her mind being, why was Violet spinning in circles like this, but Tracey knew better than to 's odd habits never had much of an explanation, least not one that satisfied Tracey.

"You're going to make yourself sick," Tracey commented, her Irish lilt barely noticeable in that moment as she struggled to snap off a piece of candy from the rest of the wand-like treat.

"The point is to get dizzy," Violet replied as she spread her arms out once more and started to spin like a top. Her shaggy, raven hair, which now grazed her shoulders, fanned out around her and reminded Tracey of a black cape. Violet's cheeks were rosy from her exertion and her eyes bright.

"Why?"

"Because it's fun!" Violet replied before dropping to the ground on her back with a large grin on her face and her eyes closed and she breathed a little heavily.

Tracey was quite sure that this was the happiest she had seen her friend in the entire time she'd known the girl, which really had only been a few months. And it made her wonder that something so simple, could make her friend so happy and feel so light.

"You haven't smiled much lately, what's wrong with you?" Tracey observed with a frown. And it was true, while Violet had thanked Tracey profusely for the gifts, even though she'd already written to her to thank her, the dark-haired girl seemed rather... subdued since the holidays.

"Do you think Professor Snape has ever refereed in the past?" Violet asked, completely avoiding her friend's question as she instead turned her gaze to the sky and started to trace patterns in the clouds with an outstretched finger.

"I don't think so," Tracey replied, knowing her friend was evading her question.

However, she couldn't deny that it was an interesting topic she chose. It had been rather strange to hear that Professor Snape had refereed the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff game the previous day.

"Now, what's wrong with you?" Tracey asked stubbornly, ignoring the book open in her lap and the licorice wand in her hand, focusing instead on her best friend; the only friend and ally in Slytherin she would ever have because of her lineage... not that Tracey cared about that. In her opinion, it was better to have one good friend, than a handful of bad friends.

Violet frowned, dropping her hand onto her stomach and not turning to look at her friend. A sigh escaped her lips. She had to talk to _someone_ about it, she guessed, but the idea of talking about something that touched her emotions in anyway... it made her uncomfortable. Violet had never been one much for sharing, even with Harry. Usually, anything she shared with him, was because he was with her and there wasn't much choice.

"Harry is upset with me," she replied. "He's barely spoken to me since the Holidays."

"Why? What happened?" Tracey asked with concern. She didn't quite understand the relationship between the Potter twins. To her, they weren't similar in anything but their appearance, and they didn't seem to have much in common. But it was obvious they loved each other, and would look after one another at any cost.

Violet sat up and gave Tracey her full attention after casting a surreptitious look around to ensure that no one would overhear them before spilling the whole tale.

Of course, she left out the part where she ran into Snape and cried. It was bad enough that Snape had witnessed that particular humiliation, she didn't want anyone else to know about it. Gosh, she could barely even look at Snape anymore without blushing in shame!

Although, that may have been because she had kept his handkerchief and she couldn't help feeling slightly guilty for it, as if she had stolen it. After she'd noticed that it wasn't covered in her snot, much to her awe, she thought she should return it. But the thought of facing Snape again after he'd seen her bawling like a toddler was too much to bear. And the more she fingered the smooth, perfectly black piece of cloth, the more she wanted it for herself, though she didn't know where that compulsion came from.

In all her years of sifting through the belongings of others, Violet had never felt any desire to take that which was not hers. However, that handkerchief was another matter. She had an uncontrollable desire to keep it, and rationalized to herself that... Snape _had_ told her that she could keep it.

"Oh," Tracey said, playing with her glasses, at a loss to what to say.

She didn't really know what it must be like, to lose one's parents, especially at such a young age. Violet usually didn't talk about it, and now that she was, it was with a decidedly distant tone, as though she wasn't talking about _her_ parents, but instead a set of strangers who'd been murdered.

Tracey wondered if that was because she was so little when they died. Violet hadn't known her parents, she didn't remember them, so how could she miss them specifically?

"Well I'm sure he'll come around. I mean... he can't stop talking to you forever. You live together!" Tracey replied to which Violet frowned thinking just how closely she and Harry did have to live together.

All those years... trapped together in the small and suffocating little cupboard under the stairs... it made her more than a little claustrophobic in recent years. While once she had been comforted to be so close to her brother, in the last year or two, the space had simply become too cramped, that she would sometimes suffer panic attacks.

The very thought of having to return to Privet Drive made her sick, even if she and Harry were given Dudley's other room. She never wanted to go back there, not after having been to Hogwarts.

Violet wondered if there were any way to change that.

But the thought of trying to tell someone again about what happened in at Dursley's frightened her. And even if they did believe her and took her and Harry away from her neglectful relatives, what if she and Harry had to be separated? What if they ended up in places far worse than the Dursley's?

"I guess," Violet said, shaking off her sad thoughts before getting back to her feet, not wanting to think about summer.

Closing her eyes once more, she spread her arms about her and started to spin once more, feeling light and happy once more, if only for a while. She'd never really been one who wanted to linger on anguish, nor to moan and cry about things she couldn't change.

Opening her eyes as she continued to spin quickly, the scenery around her blurring quickly, she smiled to know that moments like this could exist, even if only moments at a time.

**TBC...**


	7. March 1992

**Prompt: **Wonderful Talent (#400)

_**March 1992**_

"Wizarding children's stories seem very different than muggle stories," Violet commented from where she sat on a stone bench in the courtyard. A small, leather-bound book- a collection of stories by Beedle the Bard- lay open on her lap, which she then shut as she finished it.

Beside her, Tracey looked up from the licorice wand she was chewing the end of while studying for their next Potions quiz, and looked at her best friend, who had recently become interested in wizarding children's stories after a discussion they'd previously had where she discovered that they'd grown up with very different fairytales.

"You should be studying for the test," Tracey pointed out dryly, not without a little bit of envy. Because no matter how little Violet tried, how atrocious she was at the practical aspect of Potions, the girl with jet-black hair seemed to have great memorization skills. It seemed she never had to crack a book in order to get a high score on a quiz or exam. Which Tracey found rather irritating, considering how much time she herself devoted to her studies. Granted, her scores were usually higher than Violet's, but only barely which wasn't really fair when she studied so hard for those scores.

Violet waved her hand in dismissal. Violet did _not_ study. _Ever_.

The only times she cracked open her text books was for homework, and even then it was with extreme reluctance and prejudice. In that aspect, she and Harry were quite similar she supposed.

At the thought of her twin, Violet felt a familiar ache in her chest. She missed her brother.

It had now been just over three months, and they were still not talking to each other. Not that Harry seemed to be actively going out of his way to avoid her (although with the size of the castle, and their houses being on polar ends, he didn't really _have_ to _try_).

This was the longest they'd ever gone, without speaking to one another. The longest a row had ever lasted, and Violet had to admit that it scared her how much time Harry could spend apart from her without even a symptom of... regret or anything.

Violet recalled a time- perhaps because they didn't have anyone else- when they clung to each other.

Violet wanted to smile, or cry, remembering times locked in the cupboard when she and Harry would curl up on the little pallet facing one another. Times when she needed to get her mind off the crawly spiders that inhabited their cramped living space... times when she needed Harry to quiet from one of the Dursley's punishments, and she would tell him stories of magic. Stories filled with castles, knights, and dragons.

Even the stories from her head, and the magic in them, was nothing like the reality. But then... when magic seemed only the stuff of stories with it's limitless possibilities despite the strange things that happened around them, it was something that comforted them. A secret they shared in whispered voices, stories she told in defiance of the Dursley's and their mania against all things imaginative or remotely magical.

It was part of one of her earliest memories.

She recalled, she couldn't be anymore than four, though she felt as if she must've been three. And for the first time, Harry had asked Aunt Petunia about his lightning shaped scar.

Violet hadn't understood why Aunt Petunia had gotten so angry that she grabbed both of them by the scruff of the neck and locked them in the cupboard for the rest of the day. But she'd grabbed Harry so hard, that her nails had scraped his neck, and Harry started to cry.

And as they both sat in the dark little cupboard, Violet had pulled Harry close, her little scrawny arms trying to shield him and comfort him. Wanting almost to absorb him into herself, so that nothing would ever hurt him.

"_Shh... don't cry. She's just lying, because it's so special Harry," _Violet had whispered into his hair, pressing her face right against Harry's as she hugged him tight while he cried silently. Because to cry out loud, was to incur uncle Vernon's wrath. He had no patience for the twin's cries, as it was all expended on Dudley's temper tantrums. "_She's jealous, because your scar is magic."_

"Which one is your favorite?" Tracey asked with a sigh, taking off her glasses and scrubbing at her dry eyes. She needed a study break.

Violet snapped out of her thoughts and turned to her pretty friend. Briefly, she turned to look at the book of her lap, as if to contemplate the answer, but it was already at her lips.

"The Warlocks Hairy Heart," Violet responded before scrunching her nose and offering a smile. "Although, it's a bit silly for a heart to become hairy. It has no hair follicles!"

Tracey furrowed her brow and stared at Violet with a wry but amused smile. Leave it to Violet to relate logic to an obscure piece of a children's story.

"Yes, because removing a heart will stop one from feeling emotion," Tracey pointed out dryly, before scrunching her own nose in distaste. "I always thought that story to be gross."

"Well, which one is your favorite then?" Violet asked, turning up her nose in imitation of Daphne at her most snottiest. Tracey briefly giggled before responding.

"I always wanted dad to tell me The Tale of the Three Brothers."

Violet furrowed her brow, wondering why something about that story seemed to remind her of something, but pushed it away. While she had enjoyed that story much more than Babbity Rabbity, or the story about the fountain, it didn't quite speak to her the way the story of the Hairy Heart did.

Having no heart... being able to cut it out, and not have to feel anything, it seemed something almost worth envying. Except, that for the warlock it turned out so terribly.

And at the same time, her heart ached for the fictional man. Perhaps because.. when she read the story, she couldn't help picturing Professor Snape as the Warlock. And she couldn't help wondering if perhaps their very odd Head of House, who could be as cold as he was cruel, had put away his own heart.

Was that possible? Was their magic to disconnect from your emotions?

**TBC...**


End file.
